Nostalgia for a pre-9/11 New York is flourishing in entertainment, with this year’s cultural crop already yielding Vampire Weekend’s “Only God Was Above Us” and the new animated movie “Robot Dreams.” Both works make reference to the Big Apple’s sights and sounds before 2001, and though Vampire Weekend’s lead singer and lyricist, Ezra Koenig, doesn’t mention the World Trade Center or the attack directly, his band’s near-masterpiece record is suffused with the idea of innocence and the price one must pay for freedom. 

In its own, whimsical way, “Robot Dreams” is also concerned with lost innocence, and as to its imagery, the film frames the Twin Towers in multiple shots. Even its animation style, featuring 2-D images drawn by hand, harks back to a “simpler” time, with its figures and backgrounds similar to the solid colors and clean lines of printed comics. The movie’s Spanish director, Pablo Berger, based it on the eponymous graphic novel by Sara Varon, but he mixes in his own memories of late 20th century New York, a time when he was a student at NYU and then a professor at the New York Film Academy. 

This pre-2000s feel allows the movie’s happy/sad story to flow without the pervasive nag of the internet or cellphones, though technology does figure in. Basically, the plot follows the “boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy tries to get girl back” track. The boy in question is a dog called Dog and the girl is a robot named Robot that he builds out of loneliness. (Because the characters are an anthropomorphized animal and a robot, their genders aren’t exactly clear, and neither is the nature of their relationship, but the eternal plot mechanics of “boy meets girl” hold steady.)

After a day spent on the beach, Dog loses Robot when the android is unable to get up off its towel because it’s become rusted. It’s a heartbreaking scene due to the attention Mr. Berger gives to Dog’s efforts to help his friend and to his eventual leave-taking. The scene is also affecting because by then we have witnessed how much joy Robot had brought to Dog’s life. In an earlier sequence, the duo go roller skating in Central Park, and its bond-building, fun-loving energy serves as the movie’s emotional lynchpin, particularly as it’s set to Earth, Wind & Fire’s exuberant “September,” a song used throughout the film.

From Central Park outings and hot dog vendors to subway entertainment and a Keith Haring street mural, “Robot Dreams” is steeped in New York touchstones, both bygone and abiding. Also reflective of New York is the diversity of animals who inhabit the “Robot Dreams” version: elephants, anteaters, alligators, tigers, a sloth, and so many more. This assortment of fauna doesn’t result in a cacophony of various voices, though, as the movie is essentially wordless, with the occasional grunt and harrumph. That leaves the sound design and jazzy score to provide much of the character to the big-eyed, cutesy creature animation that evokes children’s cereal mascots and cartoons.

Because the detailed background illustrations, evocative mise-en-scene, and immersive framings enchant more than the character drawing, the film, which was up for an Academy Award earlier this year for Best Animated Feature, works better as a nostalgic piece for an “old” New York rather than a compelling narrative about loneliness and friendship. 

Dreams emerging from Robot’s and Dog’s slumbers, such as one that references Busby Berkeley, “The Wizard of Oz,” and Warner Bros cartoons, reflect the filmmakers’ production mood boards more than they do the characters’ hopes and anxieties. Still, these spirited fantasies prove more inspired than the movie’s action sequences. Thankfully, a consistent wry humor prevails throughout.

During the film’s third act, Dog develops a relationship with a duck and then, a little later, one with a new robot, while Robot is rescued by a monkey and re-assembled by a raccoon. These plot strands and coupling permutations eventually fuse in a poignant sequence recalling Woody Allen’s more romantic pictures, in how some of them end with a wistful and wizened look at the city and its relationships. 

Yet the final moment brings back the specter of 9/11, short-circuiting the movie’s impulse to end on a jubilant high note. As the strains of “September” delight the ears once again — “Do you remember…” – one isn’t inclined to get up and dance so much as to keep sitting and cry.